Array ( [sid] => 183495 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The visitor [time] => 2016-09-02 23:12:11 [hometext] => We all have to eat and sleep... [bodytext] => The vampire child was a little bit slow;
Too weak to chase prey, and so he would go;

Into the bedrooms at dusk to partake
Of those who would die before theyd awake.

His mother had told him its easy to reap,
From those who are laid in their beds fast alseep

Leaving no evidence unless he dined;
Except for the hangers he left intertwined!

Or maybe the blankets that slipped to the floor;
As he sat on the bed of his person dujour.

A nail to your throat to count your heart beating;
Waiting until you were safe for the eating.

Some evenings he simply hung from the ceiling;
Watching your breathing soft and unyielding;

Inhaling your fragrances, sweeter than wine;
Watching you growing weaker with time.

------------------------------------------------

They say she was frail and died in her bed;
Having a nightmare the neighbors all said,

By the look of sheer horror etched on her face;
and the scars on her headboard her fingernails traced.

Thank God shes at peace, said all who had met her;
Alas, there are those who will know her much better;

As she rocks with her knitting, nodding her head;
In the still of the night at the foot of their bed.

[comments] => 4 [counter] => 364 [topic] => 13 [informant] => softerware [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - The visitor


The visitor
Date: Friday, 2nd September 2016 @ 11:12:11 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: softerware
The vampire child was a little bit slow;
Too weak to chase prey, and so he would go;

Into the bedrooms at dusk to partake
Of those who would die before theyd awake.

His mother had told him its easy to reap,
From those who are laid in their beds fast alseep

Leaving no evidence unless he dined;
Except for the hangers he left intertwined!

Or maybe the blankets that slipped to the floor;
As he sat on the bed of his person dujour.

A nail to your throat to count your heart beating;
Waiting until you were safe for the eating.

Some evenings he simply hung from the ceiling;
Watching your breathing soft and unyielding;

Inhaling your fragrances, sweeter than wine;
Watching you growing weaker with time.

------------------------------------------------

They say she was frail and died in her bed;
Having a nightmare the neighbors all said,

By the look of sheer horror etched on her face;
and the scars on her headboard her fingernails traced.

Thank God shes at peace, said all who had met her;
Alas, there are those who will know her much better;

As she rocks with her knitting, nodding her head;
In the still of the night at the foot of their bed.



This poem is Copyright © softerware


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